Wylis the Great
by TheKulthanOrder
Summary: Wyatt Gregor knocks his head against the ground and finds himself as the recently made Lord Wylis Manderly, who recently awoke after hitting his head when ascending to his father's throne. SI. When you play the Game of Thrones, you win, or you die. Complete.
1. Wylis Once More

Wyatt Gregory was walking to his apartment after a long day at university when he tripped and fell. His head smacked against the concrete and he blacked out for at least a few seconds, though he found himself in a hospital bed, or so it seemed. He reched up to smooth his shaggy black hair only to find short hair. His beard felt different, less on his chin, more on his lip.

It was at that moment that a woman in medieval attire entered with a cloth and bucket of water, only to drop it in shock. "Lord Wylis is awake! Quickly! Fetch the Maester!" He grunted and got up, looking down at himself to find a quite fat body and a walrus mustache. This confirmed his suspicions that he was indeed in the world of ASOIAF.

It took him some trouble to get up off his bed, but he managed it and shuffled through his clothing to find a good tunic or something. He pulled on some breeches and a doublet, and he put on his boots with an effort. _I definitely need to start an exercise regime…_ He made his slow way forward to find a young man stooped over a bit due to the weight of his chain. "Ah, Lord Wylis! You are up and about. You don't seem to have any problems, excellent. Are you feeling alright?" The maester queried him about this and that until he allowed him downstairs into the main hall.

His… brother, Wendel gave him a grin. "You gave us quite a scare there, brother. Good to see you are alright!" His voice was quite loud indeed. "What happened to me, exactly?" He replied, looking at his new brother. Wendel looked at him quite confusedly but shrugged it off. "Why, after father died, when you were walking up the steps to the throne, you tripped and hit your head. We feared the worst, but it seems you are, ah, mostly all right." Wyatt nodded his head. "Well, I suppose it's time for me to ascend to the lordship, then." Wendell nodded at him.

It took him a few weeks, but he got himself on a steady exercise regime along with practicing with a sword. He tried to watch what he ate in that time, and it was starting to pay off. He was feeling quite a bit better and he wasn't always puffing and huffing after a walk. He had also been setting up a general plan, which he refined each day. It was quite general based on his knowledge, but he wrote it down and stored it away in an unused desk drawer, taken out when he wanted to add to it. The current plan was easy to read.

Phase 1: Exercise a lot more, eat healthier - do not want to die in six years. Begin reforming tax and tariff codes to bring in more income for future plans.

Phase 2: Try to introduce a printing press to the society - might increase literacy. Worth a shot.

Phase 3: Train and drill army heavily. Reduce the amount of high income people, more middle income people would be preferable. Introduce plows to increase possible harvests. Maybe try refrigeration?

Phase 4: Increase population steadily. Probably assassinate Ramsay Bolton or Walder Frey, help Robb as much as possible. The last Phase was hidden away so if anyone snooped on it they could not accuse him of anything wrong.

And underlined and bolded, _**DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, INTRODUCE GUNS.**_

Simple enough, it seemed.

It had been perhaps three months. He had slimmed greatly, now at a very healthy weight. Eddard Stark had sent good fortune a few months before after he had recovered. He had not been just working on swordplay and his weight, however. He had been going over the tax codes and tariffs. He had thought long and hard and decided to find anyone literate and send out messages to all his vassals requiring them to give him extensive tax reports about their villages, mills, farms and other such resources. Stamping all the messages became a chore, so he also had some people help with that too. When that was done, he looked at the tariffs and grimaced heavily.

It turned out that unfortunately for Wylis, corruption had been seeping it's ways into his port officials - they had been heavily racketeering for protection and insurance - against what, he could not gather. He had his city guard arrest them all, and, remembering the books, sent them off to the Wall. He then started to look through his city watch, now that loyal and honest officials were once more in place. He found that many of his men and their commanding officers were corrupt as well, though it was harder to root them out after he had shut down the port officials. It took him a few weeks, but he did manage it - thank the Gods - and he had them sent to the wall as well. He placed honest men as commanding officers and began to refill the ranks of his guard, though he had his men screen them more carefully.

In the end of the year, he had extensive reports on the incomes of his vassals as well as increased tariffs - at least fivefold - all in all, he found, it was going extremely well. With the increased incomes he began to fund the first printing press. He found a Braavosi who was willing to assist him for some pay, and after a time deciding what he wanted to pring first, he decided he needed to codify some new laws and as such set his literate workers on putting the letters in the print in copy of the original - which had taken seemingly forever, but he finally finished it with the help of his, gah, he needed a new name for the literate men of his army. The Readers, he decided. He finished it with the help of his readers, and then they set to work putting together the first copied book. It took just three hours to print it now, and he deemed it successful, ordering twelve more to be put together.

This, of course, did not come without dissent. The Septons, who had been making a steady profit off of the copied books they sold, became outraged and tried to riot, though his men put it down.

At the end of thirteen and a half months, Wylis had changed himself and White Harbor completely. With twelve new printing presses chugging along, he had finished the codified laws and had them passed out to as many literate folk as possible. The problem was that the books were drawing closer and he still had to get the plow going, not to mention improve literacy amongst his peasantry. So he set literate men to work with pamphlets, teaching anyone who was willing the basics of reading. It was not successful at first, only drawing ten or twenty people a month, though he predicted in just three or four years they would have many more.

It was then that Ned Stark sent him a letter, requesting his presence at his main hall to speak of all the changes to White Harbor.


	2. The Reformation

Chapter 2

His guard and himself arrived post-haste. He entered Winterfell, noting Robb Stark, just seven years old, and Jon Snow. He made his way forward and was greeted by Eddard, who looked him over with clear surprise. "Lord Wylis. Good to see you. Please, come with me to my solar. Wyatt agreed and followed.

They sat down, Ned sitting in front of the greatsword Ice. "I have heard much word of your tax reforms, corruption policies, printing presses… And you're much slimmer than the rest of your family. What changed, Lord Wylis?" Wyatt sat for a moment before responding. "When I had hit my head, I thought much upon my future - that was all I dreamed of. I wanted the North to be the greatest nation in the entirety of Westeros, and so I set to work on White Harbor." Ned listened and nodded his head. "I would like these, ahm, printing presses, and these new tax reforms. Your literacy promotion is also intriguing to me. Please, share these with me." Wylis nodded his head, turned to one of his men and nodded his head. "Here are the schematics, the report and the literacy promotion pamphlets. Please, do keep these under lock and key, though." Ned looked at the forms and nodded.

"Before I forget, I was thinking of something…" Wylis then looked to the east, in the direction of the white knife. "Well, we need more food. So, my thought was, we harvest ice along the white knife, and we use sawdust. Then we can preserve the ice and send it south in exchange for food." Ned nodded his head and then grinned. "Alright."

Ned stopped him, though. "Before you go, I would like to request… well, my son Robb is almost of age for fostering, and Jon Arryn is busy with one of the Redfort boys. Will you foster him?" Wylis had to consider that. "Yes, I will." Ned smiled and told one of his guards outside to fetch Robb. The boy came in with his things packed. "You're Wylis Manderly? You're a lot less fat than I expected." Ned paled a bit but Wylis just laughed. "You and I are going to get along well, lad." He gestured for him to follow.

They made their way into the yard, and Wylis was preparing to get onto his horse when he felt a sharp smack on his thigh. He looked down to see Jon Snow looking up at him, holding a wooden practice sword two handed, with a look of fury on his face. "Why did you do that, lad?" Wylis asked, looking down at the boy. "You're stealing Robb away!" Wylis just laughed and ruffled the boys hair before hopping on his horse. Seeing Robb on the horse next to him, he left with a wave to Ned.

For once, Wylis was glad his roommate in university had been a small town farmer's child from Kansas. Though he had originally been bored by the droning on about four-field crop rotation, he was thankful now. His roommate had talked about how the rotation of wheat, barley, turnips and clover would give good feed for livestock and return nutrients to the soil. He instituted that in his demesne farms and had shown it to his local vassals. But one of the big problems was the roads. He would never, ever do railroads - that would be too big a change, but his history teacher had talked about macadam roads, roads built of crushed stone. He decided to put that into his plans as well, but right now the biggest thing was then Faith.

Outraged by the printing presses taking away incomes from the septs, the High Septon had basically excommunicated him. He had thought long and hard about it and decided to cause a protestant revolution. He had posted a complaint in White Harbor saying that the people who believe in the Seven should be answering only to the holy book, _The Seven Pointed Star_ , rather than to a corrupt and indulgent High Septon. Many people of White Harbor, grateful for the increasing literacy and prosperity under the Manderlys, had already converted. The High Septon had denounced him and immediately requested the King to have him killed, but the King was too far in his cups to care by now. Outraged, the High Septon had begun gathering followers of the main branch, now called Septonism, to attack White Harbor. Wylis had increased the guard, and thinking of the upcoming Greyjoy rebellion, had begun the construction of a large fleet.

Another thing to think about was a wife. He had thought about it. He wanted to add the demesne of Hornwood to his own. There was a fine forest and many mountains and hills in that area, so he could prospect for gold, iron or coal. He made his decision, then. He sent a messenger with an offer to marry the only lady of Hornwood at that time, Lyarra Hornwood. He then turned his attention to the printing presses. He needed paper, that was one of the reasons why he wanted the woods near the Hornwood lands, but there was a small forest to the west that would do for his fleet. He estimated he could build twenty five galleys and thirty cogs with the forest, so he set many men to work.

 _Five months later_

Gods be good, this work was hard. He had gotten the fleet built after all with a bit of work. Robb was doing well in his training. His new wife, Lyarra, was a fine lady. But the High Septon's army was quickly marching north and his guards only had a month to fortify Moat Cailin. The Ironborn rebellion would start in just a month as well. Steel was starting to run low. He needed more steel, and that would require more iron. He had set men to mining away at the lands with the permission of the Hornwood lord, and steel was starting to trickle in, increasing more and more. Wood was coming in and he had it made into paper. The printing presses were hard at work and people were converting the south, with many disgruntled people agreeing. But right now his focus was plows and swords.

He needed plows made to increase food, which, with the preservation method he had tried out, was doing well enough. The swords were being sent to Moat Cailin, and he planned to go with the next shipment, seeing his wife well and pregnant. He had decided to take Robb as his squire as well and was bringing him west, though he would be kept behind the walls most of the time, as he would rather not risk the scorn of Lord Stark.

 _One month later_

The army was finally here. Fifty five thousand malnourished, enraged peasants behind the fat High Septon. They didn't have siege engines and only one in ten was armed with anything more than a scythe, most often a rusted dagger or sword. One in fifty had a hunting bow and a few arrows, and only twenty or so were armed with armor and sword. _This will be a pointless bloodbath…_ He decided to act. Thankfully his voice was loud. "PEOPLE OF WESTEROS! THE FAT HIGH SEPTON INDULGES HIMSELF ON FOOD WHILE YOU STARVE. YOUR PEOPlE DIE EVERY DAY OF HUNGER AND DISEASE, AND STILL HE CALLS THIS PITIFUL CRUSADE. JOIN ME, JOIN WHITE HARBOR, CONVERT TO MY PEOPLE'S RELIGION AND YOU WILL EAT WELL AND ENJOY GOOD HOUSING OR WORK ON MINE OWN FARMS!" Many of them looked at each other warily, and one man stepped forward. It was like a rush afterwards, at least half of them rushing forward away from the disgusting swamps of the Neck and joining his men. He had his men get ready to catalogue them and sent them all to farms, mills, but mostly smitheries or, if they were literate, to the printing shops. The High Septon shouted and screamed at them to stop, and he sent his twenty armed men to cut them down, but many of the peasants were armed and began to cut his guards down with their scythes, rocks and daggers and then they killed the High Septon, to his distressed shrieks of horror.

It was a bloodbath, mostly from . The few who hadn't joined laid down their weapons and joined the others in their exodus north. The only bloodshed was a few hundred peasants killed by the armed guards.

The people were sent north, and he readied himself to return home the next day when he heard more warhorns, a screeching roar. He realized too late that this was a preliminary attack by the Ironborn to cut off the North. Unfortunately for them, the twelve towers restored already were filled with archers. He got Robb behind the walls until it was safe, took to the walls in his knightly armor and trident and bellowed out commands. The Ironborn part, no more than three thousand, was unprepared for the soldiers there and found themselves ambushed when they left the forest and were immediately set upon with arrows. The man at the front, likely Victarion, cursed loudly and ordered a retreat to the boats. Wylis anticipated this and had sent a contingent of three hundred horsemen with torches to set fire to the ships. The ships were burnt and the men, with no retreat by sea, tried to head south to be met with the crannogmen, who attacked from the trees and killed many and more. By the end of the day, all that remained was a few highborn prisoners. Not among them was Rodrik Greyjoy, who had died in the assault. Victarion Greyjoy was pulled in, cursing and spitting at them. One of his guards was visibly wounded but not lethally.

He couldn't help but smirk. He turned to his captain and told him to muster the fleet, that they would join the Redwynes and Gulltown fleets.


	3. The Preparations

Chapter 3

He decided then to find one of the peasants and ask them about how the faith had been able to arm itself. He found Wat, a young man, who was getting used to the new farms. He loosed his tongue with a silver and the words began to flow.

"Wull, m'lord, the High Septon, he was outraged by you. He painted you as a devil and claimed that you were against the seven and a servant of evil. He started gathering folks up for a battle. The king ordered him to stop, o' course, but the High Septon refused. The King was worried about the increasing amount of raiding from the Ironborn and only sent a thousand men to harry us and return us back. We started off with a hundred thousand people, I think, but the men came in the night and gathered up peasants by the thousands. Word was circulating that the High Septon had been replaced with a new one, and more people started to defect. Food was scarce, and we were growing tired.

By the time we reached the neck, we had lost many men, mostly them being returned to their homes, though three hunnerd of the knight fellows, they died attempting to attack the army attacking us. We had only twenty of them left and few men who knew how to hold a sword. Then we was harried by the crannogfolk, they darted quite a few of us. We was angry by the time we reached Moat Cailin, and your speech about the food and whatnot was the breaking point, I suppose."

Wylis thought about that for a time, and then his thoughts turned to the Ironborn. The fleet was still loading up food and men, he needed to send a raven to Ned. He went to the maester's tower and had the maester write a letter. _My liege Lord Stark, I am moving my newly built fleet to meet up with the Gulltowners and the Redwynes. If all goes well, I will meet you on the shores of the Iron Islands. I have also captured Balon Greyjoy's brother, Victarion. I am sending him to you with thirty armed guards, as well. Please, make haste._ The maester finished and sent the bird flying forth.

He decided it was time now to row south. He called for Robb to accompany him as well…

Ned

His headaches were growing stronger. Darys Hornwood was outraged by the Manderly men mining on his lands. The Ironborn were harrying their coasts on the west, Wylis had taken control of Moat Cailin, though his defense had been beneficial it had been without permission. He needed to reprimand the man, but he was his strongest vassal. It was said the lord had fifty thousand new peasants working farms and smithies and the like.

The man was a fool when it came to politics. The north was not as full of intrigue as the south, but he was treading heavily and the Hornwoods were considering war against the men mining on their lands, as if because the Lord had married one of the ladies of the house made it any better. Ned got consistent letters about stopping the Manderly's, but he needed their fleet and men. He decided the best course of action would be to form up the banners, march south to Riverrun and meet up with Hoster's men and march west, meeting up with the king along the way. It was then Maester Luwin shuffled in. "My Lord Stark, a letter from Manderly." He took the letter ad opened it, reading quickly. He groaned as he read the letter. _I definitely need to get Robb back as soon as possible, before he gets my son killed._

 ** _A/N Thanks all for the suggestions! I realize i made a mistake in the last chapter, sorry about that. Wylis' actions do have consequences, don't worry! Keep reading and reviewing!_**


	4. The War and The Homelands

Chapter 4

The sea was starting to become boring. He wanted something exciting to do. Robb was growing antsy, as the days bore on and they became more bored. He tried to busy himself with menial work, working on the rigging and the sails these days.

He was in a stupor, barely thinking consciously, when a great horn blew and he saw in the distance a fleet of Ironborn longships hastily making their way forward. _Dammit, I'm starting to regret wanting something new to do._ By is estimation, there was maybe forty or fifty longships and fifteen galleys. He shouted commands for his fleet to form into the positions he gave them, though the Redwyne and Gulltown fleets were still disorganized. The ships formed to diagonal lines, with the scorpions and ballistae trained on the longships. They loaded, and he bellowed out, "FIRE!" The steady _thunk_ of bolts smashing into wood was a good sign, and ten or so of the ships were floundering, water pouring in swiftly. The rest pushed harder and they slammed into his formation, boarding. His men began firing their bows and crossbows, while he was putting on his helm and sword and shield. Robb was helping him with it when an Ironborn burst in. Robb went to grab his small sword but Wylis was already on the man, stabbing and hacking.

The man grunted angrily and gave a heavy swing with his axe, but Wylis dodged and the axe got lodged into the wood. The man tried to pull on it, but Wylis stabbed him through the back of the skull, the tip of his steel protruding from his eye. Wylis urged Robb to stay but Robb insisted on going. With little time left, Wylis told him to stay cautious, before running out onto the deck.

It was mayhem. The sailors were fighting, a few men on the top of the stern were firing their crossbows. The Ironborn, though ferocious, were losing to his well armed men. They let out a cheer when he entered the deck, armed with his weaponry and armor he could get on. He hacked one Ironborn's sword arm off and kicked him into the water, then hearing "Behind you!" from Robb most like. He pivoted and brought his sword straight through the leather jerkin and skin of the man, and he stumbled back, tripping over the railing. He saw one Ironborn in chainmail with a steel half helm and battle axe in hand, taking on two of his men at a time and killing both. He sprinted across the deck and slammed into the man with his shield. The fellow had seen him coming and dug his boots into the ground, and he did not go tumbling off the rail to the DRowned God's halls like he expected.

He let out a grunt and swung overhead in a feint, brining it right and hitting the chainmail. _Dammit!_ He thoughts, bringing up his shield to block a heavy blow. It jarred his left arm and he swore. The man hacked at him again, and he dodged. But he was getting a little more sluggish each time… Suddenly, a knife was protruding from the man's throat. He let out a gurgle and fell to the ground, and Robb was stood there, looking a bit terrified and mostly proud. He looked about and many Ironborn were strewn along the decks, along with at least fourteen of his men.

He heard a warhorn and looked to his left. The Gulltown fleet was being smashed by the Ironborn attacking there, and it was clear that they would lose son if he didn't help..

Ned

The Lords were gathered before him, all of them hovering over the map. They were just a few leagues north of Seagard, heading along that route so they could go west on the Seagard fleet. Rickard Karstark pointed out that there was a beach a league across where they could embark the men and travel out into the sea, heading south and hitting the Harlaw's castle. The Greatjon shook his head and pointed out that they should embark at the Crag and hit Pyke. "Cutting the head off of the serpent,and most like we will be able to get a few prisoners for leverage." Ned had to agree with that. If they could take Pyke, that would win the war… but the King would want to do the act. So then the Harlaw plan was likely the best.

Suddenly a messenger burst in. "My apologies milords, but Jason Maillister sends word! The Ironborn are attacking Seagard, he needs your assistance!" Ned turned to the other lords and beckoned them to gather their men. He exited and was greeted by one of his men. "My lord, we can get the men marching south. Give us a few minutes and we will be able to march."

He was in battle again. The last time he had been in a battle like this was at the Trident. Fitting that he was fighting in the Riverlands once more. He unsheathed Ice when they were a hundred paces from the carnage, upon a hill. He turned to his horn blower and nodded his head. _AHOOOOOOOO, Ahoooooo, AHOOOOOO,_ the horn bellowed. His cavalry charged and the infantry followed. The Ironborn were unprepared and tried to retreat, but the Mallister men returned them to the fray. The Greatjon roared something at his men while they charged, but he did not hear it. Suddenly there was one of them in fronto fh im. He didn't think, he just swung his greatsword and cleaved the man from armpit to neck.. He tried to raise his arm, but he fell over. He didn't think, he just continued hacking and slashing at the Greyjoys and the Ironborn. They tried to retreat but were always cut off and cut down. It was a slaughter, with the entire Northern army except the Manderly's, enemies died swiftly. It was done before twilight.

He decided they should use the longships and other boats to add to the Seagard fleet, where they would embark and attack Harlaw Isle. He commanded his men to take the ships, and they set sail west.

Wylis

They moved as quick as they could, arriving at the Gulltown fleet and boarding any ship with Ironborn and attacking. The Redwynes had cleared their Ironborn attackers and moved in as well. They slaughtered the damned Ironborn one by one, kicking them off into the sea. It was done by the morning and they set sail north.

 _Four Months Later_

Gods, it felt good to be back home. The war was won, and Ned had retracted the fostering. It was unexpected but he could not object. He set to work on his next idea, the caravel. He put a hundred men to work on the first one, testing it. His men responded positively to the first tests, and he was quite pleased with the results.

Ned

The four gathered lords were quite angry, but most angry of all was Daryn Hornwood. "That bumbling buffoon thinks just because he married my cousin he can mine on our lands? Lord Stark, since you won't deal with this, we will. We will banish the Manderly's again, and we will retake the peasants that keep migrating to their lands. Our farms are becoming barren, they all want to live in the great city of White Harbor. Well, we won't allow it any more. If you do not deal with this, Lord Stark, we will." The others affirmed it and agreed. Ned sighed and nodded his head. "I will deal with it."

Wylis

He was quite pleased by the first harvests with the newly introduced plows. The harvest had increased fourfold and his smallfolk were pleased. The printers were working well and more and more peasants were migrating to White Harbor for the education. His current census had put his population at 253,426 people. The city was starting to stink though. He was potting the details of a sewer system when his Maester entered. "My lord, an urgent letter from Lord Stark." He passed the letter to him.

 _Lord Wylis_

 _It has come to my attention that you have been attracting peasants through your literacy works and you are mining and foresting on the Hornwood lands. If you do not stop, I fear that you will face a war on your hands. As such, I command you to stop these things at once._

 _With regards,_

 _Lord Eddard Stark._

He stared blankly at it, then uttered a single word. "Fuck."


	5. War of the East

Chapter 5

 **A/N Sorry for the long wait! I've been thinking of how I want to end this story. Anyways, constructive criticism always welcome!**

The bannermen of his gathered forth with any men they could muster, which was quite a high amount with all the love for their liege lord. They came dressed in ragged clothes, covered in soot, sometimes one of them would be holding a sword limply. He had his guards train them with crossbow and pavise and gave them fresh clothes. The Braavosi, thank the Gods, had sent steel in exchange for ice blocks. He had had his men forging day and night, and it was paying off.

They met in the war room, which, though it had no Painted Table, a fine map of the north had been made with a press and he had used a piece of charcoal to circle enemy lands. He estimated the East-lords could muster perhaps five-and-ten thousand while his men had brought forth seven-and-ten thousand men. "I will have small groups of about five hundred crossbowmen and twenty pikemen harry their forces, always attacking from the hills and picking off foraging parties. When the army is sufficiently weakened," He said, pulling out his long metal dirk and slamming it into an area between two hills that turned into a small cliff wall, creating a bottleneck. "We will move our forces here and send crossbowmen on the sides. When they meet us between the two hills, the crossbowmen will fire upon them, slaughtering many." The lords accompanying him agreed.

The first harvests had been coming in, the tax reports having helped, and he feasted his bannerlords that night before they would march. He feasted them on a rich suckling boar with an apple in it's mouth drenched in greases, pease soup drenched in a fine sauce with bits of onions, sweetcorn slathered with butter, tarts that had been freshly baked with raspberry and blueberry jellies inside with a cream top. The final course was fresh fruit with a light drizzle of sweet-cream. His men laughed and japed jovially, and he joined in as well. The feast lasted into the night, and the ale and wine kept coming.

The men exited the castle, in the groups of crossbowmen and pikes. They japed and joked, but he could see the fear beneath their eyes. It was unlikely they would die, but the danger was ever present. One man in a steel armor set was out on the port when they got in a brawl over a tavern wench and he fell in the water and drowned. The rest of the day was much more quiet, as the groups marched on. He was leaving White Harbor with only three thousand men at arms, archers, and knights.

He called for his new squire, a boy who did not know his father and barely his mother who was fairly diligent but could never replace Robb. The squire stood at attention and did a mock salute like some parading soldier. He was a summer child, he had only seen three years of winter. Wylis sighed and returned to what he was about to say. "Boy, polish my sword and scour my steel plate in the sandbag. I plan to march with my men on the morrow, and I would like my armor clean. The boy nodded his head and rushed to do the task.

The next day, ravens had already arrived from a couple of the groups. They had wirtten that the host also had hill clansmen joining them, and they had attacked the groups from above but there was still quite a large force advancing. The men who could count well had estimated about five-and-thirty hundred men at arms, at least twice as many levies, and four hundred armed horsemen. They reported that this was likely the vanguard and that the rest would be farther back. This was confirmed by the outriders they had sent, who had reported an army twice that size, including a few fierce looking mercenary bands - including the Weirwood Protectors, a band of mercenaries mainly specializing in areas like the disputed lands, where there was much forest.

He rubbed his temple and told his squire… what was it? Brandon, Brandon Snow. That was it. He told him to bring him his plate and sword and tell the grooms to saddle his horse. As well, he told his master at arms to get the armored horsemen ready.

The plan was simple, he had explained. He would draw forth the enemy army into the chokehold with his knights, then when they entered the crossbowmen would reveal themselves and slaughter them. His force of men at arms and pikemen, just over a hill, would be waiting for the three horn blows. They would mop up the remainder and send an outrider of their own to tell the lords that they were needed in battle to help attack the Manderly's. If they followed, they would be finished off and the war won.

He had gathered his forces, given command to the men at arms to his trusted captain, Elmar Morwoode, and rode out. The two hills were an hours ride away and his men prepared themselves for the long, grueling march.

He prepared himself. He wouldn't know if his crossbows would be there when he drew back the enemies. He turned to his man and grabbed his horn. It was a stout thing, long and banded with two rings of gold. He put it to his lips and gave it a long blow. _Ahooooooooooo, Ahooooooo, Ahooooooooooooo_ the warhorn cried. Three blows meant the feign attack. His men gave a mighty roar of " _White Harbor!"_ and charged forward with a great roar. The enemies gave many cheers for their homes, loudest of all the Hill Clansmen. They charged forward and some of his men threw a few javelins before retreating to the hills. A few groups faltered but most kept on, charging headlong. They were near the two hills when a great _clack_ resonated, as hundreds of crossbows fire quarrels into the mass of charging bodies. The thunking of quarrels hitting was a good sign to Wylis. A thousand or so fell the ground. Another great clack sounded and more fell. The men were starting to falter, but some of his pikes had positioned themselves behind them and hooted and hollered.

It was a few minutes later, and suddenly the vanguard was dead, carrion for the crows. They put them in great pyres, giving off smoke. They sent an outrider as well.

The next host was much larger. They saw the armored horsemen and screamed and roared, the peasants charging while the armored horsemen faltered when they saw no vanguard. It was too late, however. His pikes and men at arms surrounded the back and pushed forward. Most of the army yielded, and were sent to the watch. The lord refused to kneel and were killed. Among the dead had been the Hornwoods male line, and with his cousin now a Manderly, the ladyship fell to Lyarra and then him. Finally, that headache was over. He could return to just being a Stark vassal.


	6. Finale

Chapter 4

Ned

Lord Manderly had defied his orders, he had been foolish, and he had caused the east to be drained of manpower. He grunted and shuffled his way to the ravenry, taking a sheet of parchment and beginning to write.

 _Lord Manderly,_

 _I have needs to speak with you of an urgent matter, regarding state problems. Please come as swiftly as possible, and we can resolve this easily._

 _Eddard Stark,_

 _Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North._

He read the summons and sighed. He should have expected this… He prepared himself and got his things ready, taking a guard of 15 men with him.

Winterfell was the same as he had seen it before. It was a strange prospect, being here again, but he shrugged internally and beckoned one of his guards to pull up the banner. They bellowed out a greeting and entered the gates, being greeted by the Stark family watching. Eddard walked up to him. "Lord Manderly, come with me. I have a matter I must speak to you with." He looked on in surprise but followed.

He entered the solar and Ned closed the door. "You directly disobeyed my orders, Lord Manderly." He gaped and then said, "I… I was only doing what I thought right." Ned shook his head. "I will put you on trial for this, Lord Manderly - what you did was treason, destroying the armies of my other vassals and going against my direct orders." He scowled then. "No, I won't, _I won't, you can't do this!"_ He grabbed at his sword and unsheathed it, hacking at Ned in his hysteria. The Lord Paramount dodged deftly and grabbed Ice, unsheathing it and blocking one of his fierce blows. He attacked again, but Lord Stark parried it and riposted, hacking at him. He brought up his sword and the Valyrian Steel sword cut through his, jarring his arm. He grunted and stepped back, and tried to open the door. "I wish it hadn't been this way, Lord Manderly." Then the Valyrian Steel touched his skin, an instant before it sheared through his body. _Cold,_ he thought.

 **A/N Well, that's the story finished. I felt that a college student forced into this world with little understanding of politics, who was mostly getting lucky but would eventually mess up would be hysteric about being taken in for trial. This story was starting to get weird anyways - I was having trouble understanding the politics and internal workings myself. Anyways, review and criticize freely, this story is done.**


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